The Red Fire Truck
by Nonnimus
Summary: A oneshot of Joe's bizarre adventure with a runaway truck. A Hardy Boys, Transformers crossover.


_A/N: Firstly, be warned: this isn't a serious story. We wrote this just for the fun of it. So, if you have a logical mind like Frank Hardy, then this may not be for you. Just read it with a pinch of salt. It isn't meant to be logical._

_We don't own Frank and Joe Hardy, and we don't own the red truck either._

_This is set some few weeks after our first fanfic, Hatred Games. But it's not really a sequel (well, maybe just a parodic epilogue to it). So you don't need to read that one first. All you need to know is this: In HG, the Hardys' van got blown up; and they got a new one as a replacement… _

**Chapter 1: **

**Joe:**

My truck is a car-killer.

I'm in deep trouble and Frank is mad at me. I know, I know. It's nothing new. But this time, it's different. For some reason, though we don't go looking for trouble, trouble always seems to find us; or rather, it finds _me, usually_. And the worst thing about this time, I can't go round getting help, because no one would ever believe me. Not even Frank. Not that I have not tried telling him. I did, but all I got was a patronizing glare. And the sarcastic words by which he asked: _Come on, Joe. Is this the best excuse you can think of?_ And I tell you, this hurts.

Frank just didn't buy my story. I don't blame him though. Who would? You probably wouldn't too, when you hear what I've got to say.

A few weeks ago, on our first day of school, our vehicle got blown up (again!). Only this time, the bomb isn't meant for us. We just had the misfortune of parking right next to the targeted vehicle. (I just told you: trouble just always seems to find us). Our van caught fire, and exploded along with the red car next to us.

We got a replacement, of course. And I tell you, this new truck is a wretch. And it's somewhat my fault. I should have listened to Frank. No doubt, I hate it when he's always right, but this time, I think I'd rather give in to him! Frank, my forever rational, sane brother, had wanted a dull and boring black van, just like the one we lost. I had defied him on purpose by picking a red fire-truck looking SUV. Now, don't ask me why I did; I only wish now that I hadn't. And guess what? Frank actually let me have my way this time!

So, I am the co-owner of a new truck – a runaway truck. Only that the other co-owner – my brother Frank, isn't aware of its runaway capabilities – yet.

Now, I swear, that red truck must be either jinxed or haunted. Maybe it's my punishment for defying Frank. Don't laugh. I'm serious. I know, I must be going out of my mind, but I swear it happened before my very own eyes.

That dratted red truck ran off on its own. With _me_ in it.

It happened just last night. I was the one driving yesterday, after a quick dinner at Mr. Pizza's with the girls. We had just sent Vanessa home, and we were dropping Katie off, when Frank suddenly decided to play gentleman and deliver the girl to her front door. (See, I was right that there was something more than meets the eye when it comes to Frank and that girl, although big brother kept denying it.) Needless to say, I was left alone in the truck, waiting for Frank to return.

That's when the stupid truck decided to run off.

No, it's not as if it just slid down the slope or something. I swear to you, it wasn't me, and it wasn't negligence. I was sure I had pulled the handbrakes up, and I even turned off the engine. Heck, my foot wasn't even on the accelerator. I was just sitting there, doing nothing. All I was doing was just craning my neck to see if Frank would give Katie a goodnight kiss. He couldn't though, because at that moment, a shadow of a dog bounded up and tripped Katie over, barking madly. I froze, half-thinking that she was being attacked, as the pooch leapt up on her. I could see that Frank did too, momentarily, until Katie sat up laughing and shoved the dog off, her face smothered with licks from her beloved pet.

I started to laugh too. Frank was such a loser when it comes to kissing girls. Fancy losing his girl out to a dog!

But my laughter froze in my throat when the engine seemed to rev up on its own. I simply couldn't imagine what caused it. Yes, I left the key in the ignition, but I sure didn't turn it on.

And before I can realize what was happening, the truck shot off down the street… with ME in the driver's seat. I nearly shrieked out loud, only that I was too shocked to do so. My mind was entirely screaming though. _Now stop! What's wrong with you? Stop, I say..._

I think I must have freaked out. I don't remember doing anything else, except slamming my foot hard on the brakes, hoping to slow the truck down. In fact, I tried everything I could think off, hitting the brake pedal, pulling up the handbrakes, turning off the ignition, but nothing worked.

It was weird, yes. But the weirdest thing was, the truck seemed to be able to steer on its own. I wasn't sure if the truck was steering itself, or someone invisible was steering it. But how could anyone – invisible or otherwise – steer the truck? With _me_ sitting there in the driver's seat? Now when I think back about it, I think it was the former. That truck sure seemed to have a life of its own. Heck, it even had a name, as I later learned.

And then weirder things happened. I don't know how long the ride was or what happened along the way. I was in too much of a panic to realize. All I knew was that, it finally stopped. In a junk metal yard.

Junk yard or not, I was sure glad that it did finally stop. I was so afraid that it would drive me all the way to the other side of the world, run out of fuel and leave me in the middle of South Pole. Man, I think I was shaking when I got out from the car.

And just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, I heard a loud voice roar in the darkness. A loud, mechanical, robotic voice. _Autobots! Transform and Roll-out!_ I turned towards the sound, and to my horror, I saw that our truck turned into a monstrous creature. No, 'turn' isn't exactly a good word to describe it. A better word would be 'transform." Yep, that's it – our truck transformed into something that looked like a gigantic, monstrous – robot.

I gulped. My truck is a... robot in disguise?

It's then when I noticed that, right there in the yard about 30 yards before me, there were four other ground vehicles - a yellow Camaro, a gray Pontiac racecar,... (I was too freaked out to remember the rest). All I could remember was that all of them were fast transforming into giant robots too, just like my truck had. And I swear I heard one of them speak... to my truck. _Good to see you, Optimus Prime... _and_ Yes, they are here... _

They? Who they? But I sure didn't wait to look around. I gulped and turned and ran. But luck would have had it that I tripped and fell.

For a moment, I thought I was a goner. I thought that they were coming after me, from the way they thundered about and the ground shook with every step the creatures took. But it didn't. Instead they seemed to be looking for something.

Among the scraps of junk metal were some old, battered cars. It was dark, but my eyes could make out that they were all black. My truck, now a huge monstrous robot named Optimus Prime, picked them up, in the way you would with your two fingers, crushed them in its hands and set them down on the edge of the yard. The other robots joined him, rumaging against the metal pieces for battered car bodies, and destroying them.

Then, as fast as lightning, the vehicles transformed itself back into their original shapes again. _My truck too. And t_hen _WHAM!_ And _CRASH!_ The robot-cum-vehicles rammed themselves against the battered junk cars, now in the shape of crushed metal, and sent them over the edge of the cliff into the river below.

My truck is a car-killer? No, that doesn't really sound right. I must be out of my mind.

To my horror, my truck came for me next. There it was, zooming closer and closer. I tried to run, but my legs were no match for its speeding tires. In the end, I just stopped dead in my tracks, closed my eyes, and prepared myself for the ultimate doom. But to my amazement, it did not run me down. Just stopped with a screech right beside me, and flung its doors open. I was afraid to get in at first, but one of its back doors gave me a smack from the back and I tumbled in. Then, it sped off again.

Phew. At least it didn't kill me. So while my truck is a car-killer, at least it sure ain't a man-murderer. But... does this mean my truck is evil, or is it not?

Anyway, the next thing I knew, I was in front of my home at the corner of High and Elm. With Frank, Dad and Mom all glaring at me.

For a brief moment, I wondered what became of the yellow Camaro and the rest of the vehicles. I didn't see any of their owners at the junk yard.

I wasn't in the mood to talk. All I wanted was to go upstairs and just call it a day, and to think things over. But before I could even set a foot up the stairs, Con Riley showed up at our doorstep. Apparently, someone had seen my truck knocking into two telephone poles earlier that night, and damaging one in the process. I was immediately given an alcohol breathalyzer test.

And now, Frank isn't talking to me. He still thinks I drove off on purpose, leaving him stranded as a part of my joke. Mom and Dad aren't too happy either. In fact, they are rather angry with me for leaving Frank stranded in the middle of the night. And as a result, I'm grounded.

Maybe it's a good thing that I _am_ grounded. Being grounded only means one thing: I am not allowed to drive. And that means, for the next two weeks, big brother dear will have all the driving to do. Maybe that will give him a chance to experience what I did. Not that I wish Frank any harm, of course, but I desperately need him to believe me.

I know this is not a nightmare, and I can swear it isn't. And I can prove it. I still have that bruise on my knee when I tripped and fell in that junk yard...

And by the way, did I mention that Frank's cellphone is missing? He left it on the front passenger seat when he stepped out of the truck with Katie. Well, no, I didn't drop it, but would you believe me if I said it grew legs and ran away?

No, I have a feeling that there's more than meets the eye, but I don't know what...

_LOL.. this must be the stupidest story we've ever written! Forgive us for writing such utter trash._

_So, Frank and Joe are not only stuck with an Autobot – but the leader of the Autobots – Optimus Prime. This would probably lead them to many more unusual mysteries/cases but they'll probably have an advantage - the Autobots might probably come to their rescue when they got into trouble… lol…,_

_And in case you're wondering - no, we're not Frank-Katie shippers. We just needed for Joe to be alone in that truck... And considering how our last story ended, that was just the most convenient excuse. :P_

_(Oh, who cares? this is a Transformers story, not a romance one!)_

_A Hardy Boys – Transformers crossover. Inspired by the new Transformers movie we watched last night… _


End file.
